by J. Carl Brooksby
(Based on facts, with some variations here and there)
I had a couple o’ little spots appear on the side o’ my nose.
Y’ve heard about skin cancers? Well, these spots wuz some o’ those.
Doc sez, “These need to git cut out; go see a cancer surgeon.”
The “C”word didn’t scare me none, but I didn’t need no urgin’
This new doc sez, “I’ll cut some out, then we’ll see if we got it all.
Wait around here fer a hour or so. If I need ta cut more, I’ll call.”
Well, he called me back, but not jest once. It wuz seven times, I’d guess.
By the time that feller put down his knife, my face wuz a bloody mess.
He’d cut away down off my nose, and out onto my cheek.
Each round, the lab sez, “Cut some more”, an’ I’m turnin’ into a freak..
An’ each time he’s slicin’ off my skin, jest what do you suppose?
He repeats that same ol’ tired joke, “This ain’t no skin off o’ my nose”.
Wipin’ his brow, he said, “I’m done, but ya’ can’t walk around like that.
Yer face will heal all scarred an’ raw; you’ll scare little kids an’ cats.
Yer face must be patched up, repaired or you will look a fright.
Go see the plastic surgeon; upstairs, third door to the right.”
This here doc sez, “The wound’s so big, I’ll have ta graft some skin.
Jest give me a second to sharpen my knife, an’ then I’ll dive right in.
The purest and the softest skin grows where the sun don’t shine.
So I’ll take a patch frum yer a.. a.. armpit; that should do jest fine.”
Well, today, he took the bandage off, an’ to my disgust and horror,
I saw long hairs growin’ off my nose, when I looked in the mirror.
An’ dryin’ off frum a nice hot shower, a unique thought arose.
I had the strangest, sudden urge to rub deodorant on my nose!
I’ve always known, ya smell with yer nose, and with yer feet, ya run.
Well, would ya believe, the side of my nose now sweats like a son of a gun.
I shaved those long hairs offa my nose; those surgeons meant no harm.
But I’m all mixed up; what do I do now? Put shave lotion under my arm?